Punto said coldly, "What do you want, Brisbane?"
"I want money, Punto. I have information about the ghost that is shooting your men, and I think you will be glad to pay for it."
"I don’t need any information, Brisbane. The ghost," Punto snickered aloud, "has been taken care of."
Brisbane’s eyebrows rose. "Really? Then why was he in my store only moments ago buying supplies and giving me a message to pass on to you?"
"What?" Punto felt his control slipping. He tasted bile, and anger at his men’s failure surged. "What do you know, old man? Tell me now and tell me quick."
Undismayed, Brisbane sat with his forearms on the table, his hands pointing at Punto’s belly. When he spoke his voice remained calm.
"Have you seen a tube gun, Punto?"
"What?" Punto was not following.
"A tube gun, Punto, like this one." Brisbane carefully drew his sleeve away, and the ugly snout of the pistol was pointed directly at Punto’s gut.
Punto said, "Why damn you, I’ve got enough men here to kill you a hundred times."
"Perhaps, but you would go first. My men would make sure of it, and I might not get hit at all." Brisbane straightened his sleeve but did not alter his aim.
Punto felt his upper lip sweat. "All right, Brisbane, you’ve come to talk, what have you got to say?"
"I am a businessman, Senor Punto Negra, and information is one of my businesses. The price of my message is forty American dollars." Brisbane saw the raider swell and quickly added, "If the information is not all that I believe it is, we can re-negotiate, but I think you will be satisfied."
Punto still hesitated. Forty dollars was three vaqueros work for a month, and he hated the idea of folding his hand and agreeing.
Brisbane said, "I would remind you that the ghost you seek is even now riding away. Delay will only make him harder to find."
Punto sneered. "We do not seek a ghost, and I’ll find him when I am ready." Even to his ears his words sounded weak.
"All right, Brisbane, go ahead," Punto removed two double eagles from a pouch at his waist and pushed them to the center of the table, "but if your story is not worth the money I will take it back no matter how many shotguns you have behind you."
The storekeeper pulled the coins to his side of the table then began.
"To make the story complete I must go back at least twenty years. Then, rogue Apaches raided this valley and far to the north. They killed and looted as they wished, and only in this town could a man feel safe.
"The Federales tried to end the raids, and ranchers sent their vaqueros into the mountains, but they all failed. From the north came a band of scouts gathered in Texas by ranchers and townspeople who had had enough. The scouts were hard men who spared no effort, and killed whatever they found.
"Their best killer was an older man named Joshua Logan. The Apache came to know him because no matter where they rode, Logan appeared. They saw him at night on distant ridges. He tracked them to their secret places, and he killed them sparing none. The Apaches feared Josh Logan because they could not escape him, and when they turned to fight Logan they died. The Apaches called Logan, Sombra Preta, or Dark Shadow in our language.
"In the end, Dark Shadow killed the last of the wild Apache, and there have been none here since. It is said that Logan found the Apache's secret wells, trapped them there and shot them all.
"The scouts and Joshua Logan rode away, and none have returned—until tonight." Brisbane saw Punto's eyes flicker.
"Dark Shadow has returned, Punto. He is old now. I would guess him to be in his late sixties. He does not wear glasses, and he seems to hear well. He moves with the grace and ease of a younger man, but he limps because yesterday a bullet struck his ammunition box and bruised his hip. He carries a Sharps rifle with a long telescope across his back and a Spencer carbine in his hand.
"Logan came to my store for supplies, and he had guns to trade. He mentioned that you were in Caliente, and he gave me a message for you."
Punto could feel his guts turning cold. He did not doubt the story because no one would bother to make up such a yarn. He waited for Brisbane's words with his mouth suddenly dry.
"Dark Shadow told me to tell you that he had killed three more of your men near the Zapata Water. Then he said that he would hunt you and your men until everyone was dead.
"Logan did not say why he intended to kill all of you, but he did ask me to tell you that he has never failed, and that soon no one will even remember your names."
Brisbane smiled to himself as he threw in the last words. He liked seeing Punto turn pale. He watched as the fear changed slowly to rage, but knew the temper was not directed at him. Perhaps Josh Logan would get his wish, and Punto would go rushing after him.
Wesley Seer came up standing. Tobias Brisbane rose with him, but Punto’s rage was so great he barely noticed. Some damnable old has-been had again spit on him, had sent him insults, tried to scare him, and threatened him—all in front of his men and some Caliente trash.
All right, this Dark Shadow wanted shooting, so that was what he would get. For days, this Logan had laid out in the brush shooting the hell out of everybody while all they were trying to do was leave the place.
Punto could not imagine how Logan had gotten to the men he had left behind. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe, Logan was talking about the men he had shot from the dark, and the tracker he had ambushed from long range. Maybe this Logan was just... Punto thought about it, and—that could be it. Logan was trying to get him out into the open.
He, Punto, was supposed to go running into the street, calling for men, mounting up and riding off into the dark where Logan would be waiting.
Not tonight! Punto felt his rage lower to a broiling simmer. Control held, and his mind began to work. He sat back down, but Brisbane did not.
The storekeeper said, "I believe the message was worth the money," and when he left with his shotgunners, Punto barely noticed.
Logan had ridden south for only half a mile. There he turned and left the mule securely tied well off the road. He rode back to the edge of the town carrying only his Spencer carbine. If he got shooting, it would be at close range, and the scoped rifle would be useless at night and in close.
He hid the horse behind brush, and walked a few yards to a house corner that looked along the street. He stood in the darkest shadows and waited.
Within a few minutes, Brisbane strode up the street with two bodyguards carrying shotguns. Logan watched where they turned in.
Brisbane had gone to see, Punto. Logan felt sure about that. The cantina Brisbane entered flooded the street with light from many lanterns. Those inside could not see beyond the light, so perhaps the best thing to do would be to walk up the street, step inside the saloon and shoot Punto dead.
That could work, but Punto might be in a back room, or he might be behind other men. Stepping into the light like that would give Logan only an instant before other guns would roar.
Inside a building those shotguns would be terrible weapons, and they might get aimed at his tender old hide.
His first plan was better. If Punto took the bait and stepped through that well lit doorway, Logan would drop him in his tracks.
As he waited, Logan found his thoughts wandering. Earlier in the year he had read a Penny Dreadful about western gunfighters. The magazine was printed in the east, and it told how gunmen and courageous marshals met with the sun high on the main street, daring the other to touch a gun butt so that they could draw swifter and kill with impunity.
Logan remembered a few deputies and marshals, and none he had known fought that way. Old Porter Rockwell who lived outside Salt Lake City had been about the deadliest of any, and Porter never offered anyone a break. He shot who he planned to shoot as safely as he could do it.
Logan wondered why anyone would offer himself as a target if he did not have to? He would enjoy killing Punto, and getting it done was why he was here. If Punto knew who had killed him, that would be fi
ne, but if he didn't... Logan's satisfaction would be just as complete.
Brisbane and his bodyguards left the cantina. The trader stalked along, but Japanese Jake walked backward watching the lighted doorway while the other guard glared ahead. Neither saw Logan, of course, but Logan's attention had already shifted to the saloon entrance.
If Punto appeared, Logan would have to be fast and shoot him before he stepped beyond the lamplight. Once Punto was down, Logan planned to shoot him again to make sure. Then, unless a horde rushed to their fallen leader, he would wait a few more minutes. Perhaps he could knock over another coming to assist.
With their leader down, Logan expected the band would split up. He would have to decide then whether he could successfully run down any of the survivors.
There was the Big Hat that Julie Smith had described as the worst. "The worst of all," she had said. God, the girl had gone through a living hell. Twenty of them, and... Logan felt his hatred rekindle. He could describe the huge hat, and people would remember the man. Perhaps he should choose that bandit to follow.
The thing was, Josh Logan could begin to believe that he might live through all the shooting. He had ripped the bandidos, killing at least a third of them, and had suffered only a painful bruise. If he killed their leader now he would not have to face an organized band, and man-to-man Logan had little fear of being overmatched.
Logan did not exactly welcome the survival possibility. He had ridden south expecting that he would die in the fighting, hoping only that he could kill many before he went down himself. The acceptance of death had given him free rein, and he could take risks. Trying to live through the whole thing could cause him to back off or to not take a shot, which in turn might leave him too cautious and he could fail in killing all of the human pigs that he should.
Voices spoke in Spanish in a nearby home, and a lantern showed through a window. Before Logan could decide to move, a door opened and a man emerged. Logan backed deeper into the shadows, but as the figure drew closer, the light reached his corner revealing him clearly.
Logan closed his right eye to retain his night vision. He heard the man's sharp intake of breath as he saw the rifle bearing figure concealed in the wall angle.
Logan said softly, "Buenas Noches, amigo. Vaya con dios." Obviously fearful, the Mexican had sagged to a stop. Logan felt naked in the lamplight. He put urgency into his voice. "Vamos, amigo," and gestured with his rifle.
The Mexican regained motion, but his voice was frightened. "Si, senor." The man scurried on his way, and quickly passed the cantina's lighted doorway.
Damnation! Logan did not like it. Usually, the Mexican people stayed out of gringo craziness, but he had no way of knowing this man's inclinations. Hell, he could be one of Punto's people. Not a raider, he was too old, but he could be a relative or a friend or an informant.
Logan feared to wait. If word of his presence got to Punto, they could be all over him, and shooting it out with many in the black of night would be inviting death.
Logan began to turn away when he saw movement. A figure stepped through the cantina doorway and paused at the edge of the light to allow his eyes to adjust to the blackness beyond.
Logan's rifle rose, but it was not Punto; it was an Indian or Mexican. Logan's gun began to come down when he saw the big hat. The huge sombrero was slung, as usual, against the wearer's neck.
"He was the worst." Julie Smith's words burned like fire in Logan's memory. The rifle snugged into his shoulder, and his thumb racked the hammer to full cock. His mind said: This shot is worthwhile, and he placed the tip of his front sight on his target.
Big Hat stood sideward, and when he held up a hand to shield his eyes, Logan settled the thin blade tip under Big Hat's armpit.
He squeezed the trigger quickly, holding his sights steady. The Spencer thundered, its blast confined among the buildings. The light carbine's kick was solid, and Logan used it to help lever a new cartridge into the chamber. He heard the empty brass strike against a stone as his thumb raked the hammer again to full cock.
Big Hat was down on one knee. A fist touched the ground, but the other fumbled for a pistol held within his broad belt. The range was short, and Logan knew the man was dead, but he took no chances. Holding closely, Logan shot him again. Two bullets in the chest, but still the Hat flung himself backward before collapsing half inside the cantina doorway. For a moment his feet drummed against the packed earth. Then life fled from them, and there was only a massive stillness.
Logan turned away. Shooting and staring into the light had left him fumbly in the dark, but he moved as quickly as he could. Punto would not step out. That chance was gone. Safety now lay in distancing himself from Caliente.
There was shouting from within the cantina. The lights dimmed and were gone. The eerie silence returned, but Logan's night vision was also coming back, and he hiked swiftly to his horse and quietly walked the animal south out of town.
13
Punto’s order to the Big Hat had been direct.
"Find those cowboys’ foremen. Tell them I have a proposition that will make them big money. More money than they ever dreamed of having."
Big Hat had stepped into the street and a bullet had knocked him to his knees. Punto had been watching his man and had seen the bullet drive completely through and out the far side of Big Hat’s body.
The thunder of the shot rolled along the street, and before Big Hat could get himself moving a second bullet slugged into his body, and the Hat’s dying reflex flung his body backward, landing half inside of the cantina.
For a long moment Hat’s feet drummed against the dirt, and Punto had seen enough dying men to know what it meant. Big Hat slumped and was dead, his eyes staring at the ceiling, blood no longer pumping from bullet exit wounds.
The echoes of the shooting had fled before Punto got himself into motion, but one man had been faster. Juan of one eye, drugged into stupefaction had come alive, snatched his long knife, and was crouched below window level, his wounded arm extended protectively, his knife ready, and his single eye darting.
Punto bellowed to douse the lights, and lamps were unceremoniously smashed and candles smothered. The safety of darkness enveloped the cantina, and the stunned bandits.
Cursing and raging began, and Punto suffered the shouting for moments while he got his own mind working.
He called names, and men moved to comply. Two were sent out a rear entrance to search for the shooter. The owner scrabbled for seldom used shutters to block windows, and someone dragged Big Hat’s corpse inside and kicked the flimsy door closed.
From outside a few voices questioned, but a pair of shots in Caliente was as common as a barking dog. No sounds of excitement came from the street.
Before they showed light, Punto posted guards front and rear, but even with security and the windows shuttered, He experienced a quivering of nerves when the lamps were relit.
Punto wondered if Logan was still out there, hidden, waiting, expecting that Punto himself would sooner or later step into his sights—probably not because men were searching closely, but the killer would not be far.
Punto eased himself in his chair and ordered drinks for everyone. He had Big Hat's body removed, and noticed that Juan of one eye had returned to his drugged stupor.
God, but the Indian had reacted swiftly. If he had not been so severely wounded, Punto expected Juan of one eye could run down this Dark Shadow without anyone's help. Juan had to live. Punto would need him for the long ride through the Sierra Madre.
Big Hat's death had reduced Senior Wesley Seer's ranch contingent to only he and Juan and one other, and if he had once taken lightly Brisbane's message from the killer Dark Shadow, Punto no longer doubted. Joshua Logan would have to be killed or he would never let go. At least as importantly, Punto knew exactly how to kill the killer.
When he could believe that the village really was clear, Punto again sent for the ranch foremen. They came, arrogantly, swinging shoulders and sneery-eyed, but
drawn by the possibility of really big money.
Hard gun-hung foremen with their closest sidekicks leaned on the Rooster's bar and sipped Punto's whiskey. Punto felt their glances strike his blotched face and slide away. God, how he hated them.
The raider leader did not keep the foremen waiting.
"There is a killer after us. He swore to Tobias Brisbane that he would kill me and the rest of my men without warning. He has already murdered four of us, and three others are missing. The killer is called Sombra Preta, Dark Shadow, and you may have heard of him."
A foreman nodded and said, || remember him from when I was a boy. Never met him, only heard about him. They claimed he killed Apaches all over these mountains. Hell, the man must be close to eighty years old by now."
Punto nodded. "That's him. His real name is Joshua Logan, and he comes from Texas or up that way somewhere.
"We don't know why he is after us, but he is a dangerous killer with a rifle that shoots a half a mile."
A man snorted disbelief, and Punto was quick to silence him. "Do not scoff, senor. He killed one of my men from eight or nine hundred yards shooting downhill. Then he shot the pistol out of my foreman's hand at more than one thousand yards." Punto gestured to the hand short Juan of one eye. "I was there, and I saw this. I am not a green hand that exaggerates distances. What I say is the truth."
Punto saw contempt for his statement changed to uncertainty which was all he could expect. "I have told you this because it will explain the large amount of money I am placing on Logan's head. Anyone who chooses to go after Dark Shadow should realize what he is facing and not simply rush out of town trying to run him down."
Still barely interested, a foreman asked, "What kind of money are you offering?"
Punto recognized their expectations. Possibly a hundred dollars to the man who took Logan. Big money, but maybe not worth the risk of facing a deadly rifle.
Punto smiled grimly and made his offer. "To the foreman whose man kills Josh Logan there will be a bonus of five hundred dollars." Heads snapped up, and eyes stared in astonishment.
Dark Shadow Page 14